


Safe and Warm

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: The First Avenger, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 09:26:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6848833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky didn't fall, and they got to journey into the future on their own terms.</p><p>“I love you, punk. You know that, don’t you?” <br/>Steve smiles.<br/> “’Til the end of the line.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe and Warm

**Author's Note:**

> I already dealt with some of my Civil War angst, and then I thought 'what if they didn't have to go through all of that at all?' So I wrote this.

His world has fallen from his grasp and is clinging to an all too fragile metal lifeline.

“Bucky! Buck- grab my hand-”

Bucky whimpers as he strains, crying out as the bar jolts again.  
“Just a bit further!” Steve has never heard panic like that which imbues his own voice, his blood thundering in his ears louder than the pounding of the train against the tracks. He’s almost falling from the train himself. 

_“Just a bit further, Stevie, just up the steps, you can do it.”_  
_They have to stop once, halfway up the eight-step flight for Steve to dot Bucky’s handkerchief with blood as he coughs in a way no-one should be able to. When they finally make it inside Steve is shaking with the cold, and Bucky runs to find him dry clothes, bundles him in a blanket on the couch and plies him with tea and soup, tucking a hot-water bottle to his chest until Steve stops him with a look that demands (at least to Bucky) that he hold him like there is nowhere else to be._  
_And there isn’t._

  
“Steve!” Bucky cries as their fingertips brush. 

And then link.  
And then Steve is pulling and Bucky is moving towards him, clinging to the edge; and then they’re both scrambling away from it to the relative safety of the far wall. 

“Buck, oh god, _oh god._ ” the tears run hot down Steve’s cheeks and fall into Bucky’s hair, arms moving to hold him tightly after a keen escapes his throat. 

He pulls him to his chest, squeezing almost too hard and Bucky reciprocates in kind despite the shaking that has overtaken his frame, and suddenly it isn't enough. Steve tilts Bucky’s chin up to find his eyes wild and frantic, tears clinging to his eyelashes and chin until Steve takes a leap of faith (which, he notes, he has had to do all too often recently, but once more surely won’t hurt) and kisses them away until he’s pressing kisses all over Bucky’s air chilled skin between forehead touches and sobs. 

*

Later, when it isn’t warm or safe just yet (but it’s warm _er_ and saf _er_ and isn’t that the best they can hope for, anyway?) Steve ducks into his allocated tent to find Bucky perched stiffly on the edge of his single bed. 

“S’gonna be cold tonight.” he mumbles, and Steve smiles warmly at the old excuse as he changes out of his uniform. With a gentle push Bucky moves to lie back, Steve slotting into place beside him and pulling him close. The extinguishing of the lamp gives their thoughts more space to breathe. 

“Don’t think I would have survived if…”  
“I definitely wouldn’t have.”  
“ _Buck._ ”  
“What? S’true, punk. You saved my life. Again.” the words are formed around a gentle smile that Steve can feel against his collarbone.

“Just paying back a favour..” he sighs as Bucky starts to press kisses up to his jaw, lavishing attention to his neck that makes his arms tighten around him before his hands wander down Bucky’s sides.   
“How… How long’ve-“

_Bucky shoves his key into the lock as if on autopilot, mind preoccupied with the particularly gruelling day he’d just had at the docks. Two men were off sick again and by default it was up to the rest of them to pick up the slack. His usual greeting gets caught in his throat as the smell of baking bread hit him accompanied by the soft melody of Steve’s voice singing along to the wireless, making him pause to listen._

_He knew it as he leant in the doorway with a smile. He knew it as he brushed the flour from Steve’s hair, who was pouting, Bucky’s silent approach having made him jump. He knew it as he asked how they could afford to make bread and as Steve replied that he’d been saving, ‘simple pleasures in times of hardship and all that’. He knew then that he loved him, but then all to soon the war took him away._

“God, Stevie. _Years._ ”

“Me too.” 

“Well, we never were very smart.”  
Bucky catches Steve’s laugh with his mouth, pressing slow kisses to the corners of his smile. 

’ _Til the end of the line_ had almost become too literal, and he wasn’t going to waste his second chance. _  
_

_*_

Steve looks at Bucky from the pilot’s chair. Bucky nods, smiles with sad eyes.   
“I gotta put her in the water.”  
_“Please, don’t do this, we have time-“_

“Peggy, Steve’s right we gotta, we haf’ta.. We’re in the middle of nowhere, we wait any longer a lot of people are gonna die.” 

“Peggy… This is our choice. _”_ Bucky reaches to place his hand over Steve’s on the wheel.

_“I’d better see you both next Saturday, at the Stalk Club. You still owe me drinks. Don’t you dare be late.”_ her voice is breaking.  


“Wouldn’t dream of it.”  
The radio cuts off. 

Bucky’s voice is gruff. He’s beautiful with the wind whipping through his hair and the evening sun lighting up his face.  
“I love you, punk. You know that, don’t you?”

Steve smiles.  
“’Til the end of the line.” 

*

“Oh my god. They’re - they’re still alive, get me medical, stat!” 

They have to be careful when they move them, because their hands are linked together, shrouded in ice.   
  
*  
  
“That… didn’t we go to that game?” is the first thing Steve hears when he wakes in a warm, plush bed. It’s bright, too bright. He thinks he’s in a hospital but there’s something not quite right.

Then it hits him. 

“ _Bucky?”_

“Y’know, doll, I could’a sworn we crashed a jet into the ocean on some sorta death mission.”  
Steve all but whimpers as he reaches out and finds Bucky’s hand in his, his smile directed at him, his pulse steady under his fingertips. 

“Where are we?”  
  
“I don’t know, but it sure as hell isn’t Brooklyn.”

A grin, and then:

“Wanna find out?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and thank you to everyone who has left comments and kudos on my CA:CW fix-it fic 'Just Fine'! I'll be writing some more fix-its soon, because Civil War killed me.


End file.
